Tuesday Deacon Festival

This image is obviously of someone flying a giant skull balloon.

Listening To: "Mercy Street" on So, by Peter Gabriel



In this image Leonardo has proven that he had a tactical parachute to save his poor comrade, Copernicus, who has just vomited out his entire soul over the abstract cliff after discovering pasta contains egg yolk, to which he was deadly allergic. The words, Be Free, were added by a vindictive former girlfriend of both of them, the one who invented the non-vegetarian pasta in order to slay Copernicus (in his nightmare). Sanpaku was originally under those words. Think. Dream. Imagine.

Mind Phone

Random piece of independent comic book art very reminiscent of the art from the Omega Men. In the late 1980's the corner on the market held by Marvel and DC eventually led to the death of Superman and the completion of the X-Men series. The market stagnated because of a lack of choices, and young men wanted more variety to choose from. Great series such as Judge Dredd and the New Teen Titans inspired an entirely new generation of artists. This piece of art is sexy, but the greatness of it is not sexual. The glossiness of the image makes it dynamic, and the sex appeal gives it a boost, but the unexplained imagery, the scene in the background, the mystery of the action, that's what makes this a great work. It begs so many questions, but at the same time makes certain the scenario is friendly with a simple smile on the character's face. Comic books have never gotten the credit they deserve from a lot of people in the adult world. Some people don't know the depth of the images they look at.

Saved by Hero

Backwards from -1 starts with zero, then 1...

Death by Vanity: The mirror killed every human's dreams in the United States. Delta Tri Epsilon, today, innocent of all but normalcy, greedy men as guilty as children: Love for the ownership society founded on human suffering died. That places human suffering far behind consideration of the self, which exemplifies the vilest of egocentrism. Ain't ONE grand? Or can children be guilty of rushing headlong into judgments?

The game: I hunt that. All trophy prizes remains unclaimed. Gelded and shorn of antlers, turned out as a hare, always still a Lion at heart. I tire of empty legal judgments.

Also, have a nice day. America loves YOU. Fuzzies are awesome. "... can speak and build a fire." - H. Beam Piper [Sometimes intelligent squirrels have pow-wows.]

[You can call me a nazi, a communist, an insurrectionist, an aristocrat, a self-resurrecting monarchist, but that won't make it true. Casting money and property aside was the only way I could be free of all trivial concerns. I proved to be guilty of being the very largest monster of all, a man who never considered himself worth anything. I took almost an eternity to forgive myself for other things, but have yet to get over that. My words become absolutely true beneath my own inspection.]

Animal of Some Sort

Fox in a henhouse in a giant tin barn in a hailstorm during a mass bat exodus during a plague of Metallica guitar solo, isn't listening. The fox is more concerned about the creepy thing with the camera. Also, less concerned about the eggs just eaten than the fur industry. Also, even more souped up. And then still concerned that having a sex may be unachievable from that point on (given aforementioned circumstances and the lack of sexual awareness among Fox's people).

Yet content and at peace, because some foxes are one thing this little fox will never be: Ugly.

Energy Arrival

The caverns and corridors of the 3D real-time engine programmed by a friend of mine seemed like an ideal place to exhibit my art. He used it to create a stunning, original first person perspective video game. I went into the code and placed poetry on every single frame of every sequence, quite independently of his work. The only obstacle to the task was the number of lines available.

When the engine went from bit-mapped graphics to super-charged bit map graphics, or bump mapping, the writing went from a large block font to a curvier font. The frames were ideal for haiku, but I never used it for that. As is always the case I struggled with the conventional poetic mold and instead only managed to get ten frames out of it. Later I deeply regretted not using the walls for haiku.

I was unable to fuse music with my project. Hypno while reading artistic CGI graffiti may not appeal to everybody anyway. My original poetry still exists in one of the compilations, and his video game design never faded. He became a prolific writer as well. I stayed a pure artist.

My friend later moved on to program NASA level astronomy rendering, but his computer was private. To perfect that rendering the computer must be wired into the government collective. This is just a brief history of the writing and programming that took place in 2001-2002.

Energy Arrival

Defense against Being Overmatched

Taught in the Mississipi River Valley and elsewhere, blow a whistle repeatedly. If that fails the desperate cell phone defense is widely known. It's only used in the event of a complete lack of protectors. Try to call someone. Run away screaming. Use keys to gouge eyes if the attacker closes. Kick the attacker in the nads. If help has still yet to arrive, use fingers and teeth while continuing to scream. Quit if you are punched. Justice will prevail.

Foiled Zounz

Uploading every old file left in music database for albums and songs. The following is from Rasputin's Body. Nobody wants to hear such normal stuff, but it's coming anyway. My centrifuge owns loopsville, also coming.

Before you go past this all the way, you should know that after this link is done the last song from Drowning in Stupidity is available. Tonight. It's called Senatorial Ass Rape. I am not putting it together, because the Senators do frighten me. They can wish people into oblivion. So, instead of one song I have sequenced all verses by track and number c ode. The combo is self evident.

First:
Rasputin

Working political jangle. It's set to "Punk Rock Girl." (Minutes....

Le'Ass Rapagier
One at a time, please.

milieu

More music: doctors, dealers, samples (originals lost)

baton

rouge razor blades step one

prjct

Glissman sat down to read the bad news he received in the mail. " We regret to inform you that your account with our company has been terminated. There is no longer a need for you here, or anywhere else." It could only mean he had to go back to work again. The job that never stops and never ends...